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THE ROSY CLOUD 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

“So Cathkhine took Bichette off to the pas- 
ture” . . . . . . . Frontispiece 

“It floated up above her head” ... 18 

“They had no need of a guide, for there was 

BUT ONE pathway” ..... 31 

“ What could be in the little chest, whose 

KEY Aunt Colette held in her hand?” . 39 

“ ‘ Did you fire off your gun just now and 

make that noise like thunder?’ said she” 54 
“Catherine began to spin while liste.ning to 

her aunt ” 60 


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“SO CATHElilNE TOOK BICHETTE OFF TO THE 
PASTURE ” 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


BY 

GEORGE SAND 
H 


JUlustrateH bg 

DIANTHA W. HORNE 



BOSTON 

DANA ESTES & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
CoFHfcH Received 

JUN. 23 1902 

- Copyright entry 
CLASS C^XXa No. 

b t. 5 ■} s 

COPY B. 


Copyright^ ig02 
By Dana Estes & Company 

All rights reserved 


THE ROSY CLOUD 

* * *8 • 

1*8 ^Published, June, igo2 


Colonial ^vcss 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston. Mass., U. S. A. 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


A GRANDMOTHER’S STORY 


CHAPTER 1. 

ATHERINE was a little peasant girl in France. 



She could neither read nor write, but was a 
great chatterbox ; inquisitive and fickle, but not 
headstrong. Her daily task was the care of her 
three sheep. 

Soon after Christmas each of her three sheep gave 
her a little lamb. Two fine strong ones, and one so 
little, so tiny, that you could almost believe it to be 
a little white rabbit. Catherine’s mamma, whose 
name was Sylvanie, despised the poor little lamb, 
and said it was a pity the thing ever was born, be- 
cause it would never live to grow up, and, even if it 
did, would never be worth the grass it ate. 

Such speeches as these distressed Catherine greatly, 
because she thought the tiny lamb was prettier, and 


12 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


she loved it better than all the others. She was 
determined to take the best care of it, and named 
it Bichette. 

She took so much care of it that she almost killed 
it with kindness. She was too fond of it, and ca- 
ressed it too much, carried it in her arms, and let it 
sleep in her lap. Now puppies and kittens love to be 
petted and played with ; but lambs, after they have 
been well fed, like to be let alone, to sleep when they 
feel so disposed, and to wander wherever they please. 
Sylvanie sometimes told Catherine that, instead of 
growing larger, her lamb grew smaller every day, 
because it was handled too much ; but Catherine 
didn’t care, because she wanted the lamb to stay 
little always ; indeed, if she could have carried it in 
her pocket she would have loved it all the better. 

Every day the mother sheep were led to the pas- 
ture, two hours in the morning and three hours in 
the afternoon. The two strong lambs were very 
reasonable when their mothers were absent; they 
seemed to suppose that they had gone abroad to find 
some milk. Bichette was either more impatient or 
else hungrier, for when her mother left her she 
bleated so pitifully, that it almost made Catherine 
cry. 

The lambs were not allowed to go to the meadow. 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


13 


They were too young, and the grass was too damp ; 
but Catherine begged so hard to take Bichette that 
Sylvanie finally said: ‘‘You can do as you please! 
If the lamb dies it will be no great loss ; in fact I 
would like to be rid of it, for you do nothing but 
play with it, and can think of nothing else. You 
take the sheep out too late and you bring them back 
too soon, just in order to keep Bichette constantly 
with her mother. Take her along with you, come 
what may.’’ 

So Catherine took Bichette off to the pasture, and 
all the time she was there kept her rolled up in her 
apron, for fear she would take cold. That was all 
very well for two days, but by the third day she was 
tired of being a slave to a beast, and began to run 
about and play in the meadow as she used to do. 
Bichette didn’t worry on that account, neither did 
she grow any bigger, remaining a little stunted 
animal. 

One day Catherine spent most of her time looking 
for birds’ nests in the bushes instead of watching her 
sheep. Toward evening she discovered a blackbird’s 
nest, wherein were three little birds already fledged. 
The baby birds were not at all frightened, for when 
she put out the end of her finger toward them and 
imitated the mother bird’s cry, they opened their 


14 


THE BOSY CLOUD 


yellow beaks as wide as possible, and showed their 
pink throats. 

Catherine was so delighted with the little birds 
that she carried them off, nest and all, and did noth- 
ing but chatter to them as she drove her sheep 
homewards. It was not until the next morning she 
discovered Bichette had not returned to the sheep- 
fold. She had been forgotten, left in the field all 
night. Perhaps the wolf had eaten her. Catherine 
was very angry with the blackbirds who had caused 
her to be so negligent. All her old love for Bichette 
returned, and, with tears running down her cheeks, 
she ran off to the meadow to seek the dear lost lamb. 

It was in the month of March. The sun was not 
yet up, and a thick white vapor hung over the pond 
that was in the middle of the field. After having 
explored all the hollows and hedges, Catherine ap- 
proached the pond, fearing that poor Bichette had 
fallen in and was drowned ; then she saw something 
that astonished her greatly, for this was the first 
time she had ever been to the pasture so early in the 
morning. 

The vapor, that had hung low and hidden the 
pond, began to melt away in the sun’s warm rays, to 
roll itself into fleecy white clouds, and to rise toward 
the tree-tops ; some of the clouds even seemed to get 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


15 


tangled among the branches of the willow-trees and 
stay there, others would fall on the sand, and seem 
to shiver with cold as they touched the wet grass. 
Catherine could almost believe that she saw a flock 
of sheep, but she was not seeking any sheep except 
her poor Bichette, and Bichette was nowhere to be 
seen ; so in despair she sat down on a stone, covered 
her head with her apron, and wept. 

Fortunately, a child’s distress does not last very 
long, and Catherine soon got over her fit of weeping ; 
looking up, she saw that all the fleecy clouds had 
risen above the tree-tops, and, changed to a beautiful 
rose color, were floating high in the air, getting 
nearer and nearer to the bright sun, who seemed to 
be drawing them to himself and absorbing them. 

For a long time Catherine watched them as they 
melted away and vanished, and when she looked 
down again, what did she see but Bichette, either 
asleep or dead, on the other side of the pond. 

She ran quickly, and without stopping to think 
whether the lamb were alive or dead, picked it up, 
put it in her apron, and hurried away home as fast 
as she could go ; but as she ran along she was aston- 
ished to find how little the creature weighed — there 
seemed to be nothing at all in her apron. “ How 
thin poor Bichette has grown in just one night ! ” 


16 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


said she, but she did not unroll the apron for fear the 
lamb would take cold. 

When she came to the turn in the road, who do 
you think she met ? Why, no other than petit 
Pierre, the son of Joyeux, who made wooden shoes 
for all the peasants. He came running toward her, 
carrying something in his arms. What do you sup- 
pose it was ? It was Bichette, bleating with all her 
might. 

“ See, Catherine ! ” said he, “ here is your lamb 
that I have brought back. She strayed in around 
my sheep yesterday evening when you were showing 
me your blackbird’s nest. You wouldn’t give me a 
single one of your young birds, but I am kinder than 
you ; for when I found that Bichette had followed 
one of my sheep, thinking it was her mother, I let 
her stay all night in our sheepfold, and this morning 
I hurried to bring her back, for fear you would be 
distressed at having lost her.” 

Catherine was so happy that she kissed petit 
Pierre, made him come home with her, and gave 
him two of the young blackbirds; which so pleased 
him that he went off dancing for joy. 

It was only after she had seen how contented 
Bichette and her mother were at meeting each other 
again that Catherine remembered her apron, and 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


17 


wondered what could be in it. She certainly thought 
she had put a lamb in it. What could it have been ? 

She was very curious to find out, but also rather 
scared, so she decided not to unroll the apron until 
she got upon the roof of the sheepfold, which sloped 
down to the very ground on one side, and was cov- 
ered with a thatch of straw. It was a very pretty 
place up there on the roof, for the wind had blown 
flower seeds on it, and they had sprouted in the 
thatch and were all in bloom. Many an afternoon 
in summer Catherine had taken a nap up there in the 
bright sunshine, to make up for the sleep she lost by 
having to rise so early in the morning; so then, she 
climbed up on the deeh^ as the peasants call it, and 
began very cautiously to untie her apron. 

What in the world could be in it? 


CHAPTER II. 


TT was a blue cotton apron, made out of an old one of 
her mother’s. Neither very pretty nor very clean ; 
but if just then any one had offered Catherine to ex- 
change it for a handful of silver she would not have 
consented, so curious was she to find out what it 
contained. 

At last she opened it and found — nothing at all. 
She shook it, and nothing fell, but she seemed to be 
all at once surrounded by a white misty cloud like 
smoke, and in less than a minute there was floating 
above her head one of the pretty, round, fleecy clouds 
that she had seen over the pond. First it was white 
as snow,. then soaring higher it became golden, then 
pink, and at last as red as the most beautiful rose. 
It floated up above her head, then it went higher than 
the walnut-tree, and at last sailed high up in the 
bright sunshine. 

Catherine never stopped to think how strange it 
was that she had carried a cloud in her apron. She 

only knew that it was very pretty, and that she was 
18 



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^' 4 ^ — 


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> 


IT FLOATED UP ABOVE HER HEAD 


>> 



THE ROSY CLOUD 


19 


very sorry to see; it fly away so quickly. “Ah,” she 
cried, “ you ungrateful thing ! Can’t you even play 
with me awhile and thank me for putting you back in 
the sky ? 

Then she could hear a faint, clear voice, which 
came from the rosy cloud, and sang a pretty song — 
but the words she could not understand. 


CHAPTER III. 


ERTAINLY Catherine could not understand a 



word — but she continued to listen and to watch 
the cloud as it rose higher and higher and finally 
broke up into ever so many little pink cloudlets and 
melted away. 

“ Now,” said Catherine, “ you would go up to the 
sun, and he has eaten you up, as he devoured all 
those clouds in the meadow. If you had stayed here 
with me I would have kept you safe in my apron, or I 
could have put you in the garden under the big apple- 
tree, where it is nice and cool ; or on the trough by 
the well, since you like to sleep over the water. I 
never had a cloud to take care of, but I could have 
learned how, and I’m sure I could have made you live 
longer. Now you will only be blown to pieces by 
Master Wind or eaten up by Master Sun.” Catherine 
waited to hear if the cloud would answer her, and she 
heard far off a twittering like little birds, but it was 
impossible to distinguish what they said ; so she 
waited until she could neither see nor hear anything 


20 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


21 


more of her beautiful rosy cloud, but could only hear 
her mother calling her to breakfast. 

“ Mamma,” said she, “ 1 want to know some- 
thing.” 

‘‘ What is it, my daughter ? ” 

“ What do the clouds say when they sing ? ” 

“ The clouds never sing at all, little stupid, they 
mutter and growl when the thunder gets into 
them.” 

“ Ah, good gracious ! ” said Catherine, “ I never 
thought of that. I hope the thunder will not get into 
my little pink cloud.” 

“ What is that you are talking about ? ” said 
Sylvanie. 

“ The little pink cloud that was in my apron.” 

Now just stop talking such nonsense,” said Syl- 
vanie, “ for you know T don’t like to hear it. It 
might do for a baby of two years old, but you are 
getting too big to be so silly.” 

Catherine did not dare to say anything further, and 
as soon as breakfast was over skipped off to the fields 
again. She still had one little blackbird, which she 
carried off and played with for an hour or two ; but 
as she had risen so early in the morning, she was 
sleepy and lay down in the meadow and fell fast 
asleep. She was no longer afraid of losing Bichette, 


22 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


for she had left her with the other lambs in the 
sheep fold. 

When she awoke, as she was lying on her back, she 
could see nothing but the sky, and there above her 
head was the little cloud, as rosy as ever, the only one 
in the clear blue sky of a summer’s day. 

“It is very pretty all the same,” said Catherine, 
who was only half awake, “ but how far away it is. 
If it is singing now, I can’t hear it. Oh, I wish I 
could be up there, too ! I would see all the world 
and could float about in the air and never feel tired. 
If it had only taken me up there I could go close to 
the sun and find out what it was made of.” 

The little thrushes sang away in the hedge and 
Catherine fancied she heard them making fun of her, 
saying, “ Fie-fl-fi ! what curiosity ! ” They stopped 
their singing very quickly when a great hawk appeared 
overhead, and flew in circles around the rosy cloud. 
The little birds hid under the leaves and trembled 
with fear. 

“ Ah ! ” said Catherine, “ it serves them right for 
laughing at me. If I were on the back of that great 
bird, I could fly after my pink cloud and get it again.” 

By this time she was quite wide awake, and re- 
membered what Sylvanie had said to her about her 
foolish talk ; so she took her distaff and set to her 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


23 


spinning, determined not to think of the cloud any 
more, but every few moments she would give an up- 
ward glance at the sky. 

The hawk had flown away, but the cloud was still 
there. 

“ What are you staring at so hard, little Cather- 
ine ? ” said a man, who was passing along through the 

< j* 

meadow. 

It was Father Bataille, who had just cut down a 
tree in the next field. He was carrying it home on 
his shoulders, and he leaned to rest himself against 
a willow-tree, for his load was heavy. 

“ I am watching that little pink cloud,” replied 
Catherine, “ and I want to ask you, who have trav- 
elled about and know so much, why it stays up there 
all alone and doesn’t move a bit.” 

“ Ah, daughter,” said the old man, ‘‘ when I was a 
sailor and sailed on the sea, I would have called that 
cloud a weather-breeder, and said ’twas a bad sign.” 

Sign of what, P^re Bataille ? ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


IGN of a great storm, my child. When we see 



^ a cloud like that at sea the sailors say, ‘ Look 
out for a squall.’ Such a pretty little cloud ! As soft 
and white as a little sheep ; you could almost pick it 
up and tuck it away under your arm. And right 
away it grows big and black, and spreads all over 
the whole sky, — then look out for yourself ! Light- 
ning, thunder, great bursts of wind, and the mischief 
and all to pay. Every one to his post, and save the 
ship if you can.” 

‘‘ Ah, good gracious ! ” said Catherine, “ could my 
pretty little pink cloud become as naughty as that? 
I hope not.” 

“ In this part of the world and at this time of year 
cyclones are very rare ; besides, to my mind, there is 
never any real danger on land. All the same it is 
very queer, your rosy cloud.” 

“ Why queer. Father Bataille ? ” 

“ Why ? Because it is queer, and it looks nasty. 
Anyway, I mean to hurry and get my wood brought 


24 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


25 


in before night. I have three loads of branches to 
bring in yet.” 

He started off, and Catherine tried to go on with 
her spinning, but, as she couldn’t keep her eyes off 
the cloud, the spindle grew no larger. She fancied 
the cloud did, though, and changed its rose color to 
a purplish hue. It was no fancy. The cloud became 
blue, and then of a bluish slate color ; at last it was 
inky black, and had spread itself over the whole sky. 
Darkness came on suddenly, and finally thunder was 
heard in the distance. 

At first Catherine was quite amused to see her 
little cloud becoming so great and strong. “ I was 
sure it was no ordinary cloud,” said she. “ The sun 
could not swallow it up, and now the little rosy cloud 
is going to eat up the great round sun. And to think 
that only awhile ago I was carrying it all rolled up 
in my apron ! ” 

Just then there came a flash of lightning, and 
Catherine was so frightened that she hurried to get 
her sheep together and drive them home. 

“I was getting alarmed about you,” said her 
mother, “there is a fearful storm coming on; I 
never knew one to gather so suddenly or to threaten 
to do so much harm.” 

It certainly was a terrible storm. The hail broke 


26 


THE BOSY CLOUD 


the windows of the house, the wind carried away 
the tiles from the roof and the lightning struck the 
great apple-tree in the garden. Catherine was any- 
thing but brave ; she was ready to hide under the 
bed from fear, but she could not help saying, ‘‘ Oh, 
you wicked red cloud ! If I had known how bad you 
were I would never have let you out of my apron.” 

“ Dear ! dear ! ” said Sylvanie, “ the poor child is 
out of her head.” “ Bah ! ” said one of the neigh- 
bors, “ it is the storm that has bewildered her ; she 
will be all right to-morrow.” 

And so she was when the next day came, for the 
sun rose as brightly as ever, and Catherine was as 
bright as the sun. She rose early and climbed up on 
the roof of the sheepfold, which, being lower and 
more sheltered than the house, had suffered no in- 
jury. The pretty flowers on the roof were lifting 
their heads once more, and seemed to say, “ Dear, 
good Father Sun, have you come back? Bon jour, 
we are always so frightened when you hide from us.” 

Catherine, too, was so happy to see the sun again 
that she would have said hon jour like the flowers, 
but she was afraid he was angry with her for setting- 
free the naughty cloud that had given him such a 
battle. She did not dare to ask her mother if one 
can please or displease the sun, for Sylvanie had so 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


27 


often scolded her for her foolish imaginations that 
she determined to have no scoldings in future. 

So she thought no more of the rosy cloud, but 
turned her attention to the little blackbird, which 
amused her for several days, until it died from being 
fed on bread crumbs and cream cheese. Catherine 
wept bitter tears over the blackbird, but soon con- 
soled herself with a sparrow that was finally eaten by 
the cat. Another bitter grief. She was disgusted 
with pets and decided to go to school, where she be- 
came a diligent scholar. Next she began to take 
great interest in her spinning, and, by the time she 
was twelve years old, had become a sweet, amiable 
girl and a very clever spinner. 


CHAPTER Y. 


NE day about this time, her mother said to her : 



“ Daughter, would you like to take a little 
journey and see a far country ? ” 

“ Oh ! I certainly would,” replied Catherine. “ I 
have always wanted to see the country where every- 
thing is blue.” 

“ What are you saying ? There is no blue 
country.” 

“ Oh, yes, there is, for 1 see it every day from the 
roof of the sheep-cote. All around is our country, 
which is green, but way beyond and outside of our 
country there is another which is all blue.” 

“ Ah, now I see what you mean ; that country 
only seems blue because it is so far away. But you 
shall go and see for yourself. Your Grand-aunt 
Colette, whom you have never met, because she went 
away from here thirty years ago, lives over there on 
the mountain, and wishes greatly to see you. She 
is very old now, and lives all alone, as she never 
married. I fear she is poor, and you must be sure 
not to ask for anything, but try and be useful to her. 


28 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


29 


I am afraid she is lonely ;• besides, she might fall ill 
and die without any one to care for her, so I mean 
to try and persuade her to return home with us, if 
possible, for it is my duty.” 

Catherine had a faint recollection of hearing her 
parents speak of la tante Colette.” She had never 
paid much attention to what they said, nor did she 
much care, yet the idea of a journey was delightful ; 
to see a new place, to travel in the diligence would 
be so exciting. She was really as curious as ever, 
and we do not blame her, for she was simply eager 
for knowledge. 

So she and her mother started off in the coach, 
travelled all day and all night, and awaked the next 
morning in a new world, that is to say, among the 
mountains. Sylvanie thought the country very ugly. 
Catherine, on the contrary, thought it beautiful, 
though she didn’t dare to say so. 

When they had climbed down from the stage- 
coach (or diligence, as it is called), they inquired 
for the road to the village where the Aunt Colette 
lived, and were shown a pathway almost as steep as 
the roof of Catherine’s sheepfold. “ That is the only 
road to the place. Just go straight up the hill,” said 
the driver. 

“Do you call that a road?” said Sylvanie. “A 


30 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


body need have four feet, like the goats, to get about 
in this part of the world. This is your beautiful blue 
country, Catherine, and I hope you like it.” 

“ I think it is very beautiful,” said Catherine, “ and 
besides, it is blue. Just look up at the top of that 
mountain.” 

“ What you see is snow, you stupid child, and 
when you get close, it is not blue, but white.” ' 

“ Snow in summer-time ? ” 

“ Yes, because up there Tis so cold that the snow 
never melts.” 

Catherine was sure that her mother must be mis- 
taken, but she didn’t like to contradict her. She 
was impatient to find out if what she saw really was 
snow, and scrambled up the mountainside almost as 
fast as a little goat, though she had only two feet and 
not four. 

When they finally reached the village (Sylvanie 
tired out and Catherine breathless), they were told 
that the Aunt Colette never stayed there in summer- 
time. She belonged to the parish, however, and her 
house was not very far off. 

Then they were shown, high up on the mountain- 
side, a chalet whose roof was covered with great 
stones. The house was almost hidden by the pine- 
trees. “ There is her home,” said the villagers ; “ it 



“THEY HAD NO NEED OF A GUIDE, FOR THERE WAS 

BUT ONE PATHWAY ” 


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THE ROST CLOUT) 


31 


is only about an hour’s walk up the hill.” Sylvanie’s 
courage gave out, for she saw that they had only 
come about half-way, and the steepest part was yet 
to be done. 

She feared that Catherine woul(> not be able to 
climb so far ; the place seemed so wild and ugly to 
her that she almost decided to descend again to the 
plain, and return to her own country without ever 
letting the old aunt know that she had made an 
attempt to pay her a visit. Catherine, however, was 
full of courage and neither tired nor afraid, so, when 
they had refreshed themselves by a good lunch, she 
persuaded her mother to continue their up-hill jour- 
ney. 

They had no need of a guide, for there was but one 
pathway. Even though they could have found one 
they would not have had much pleasure in his soci- 
ety, for the peasants all spoke a patois of which 
Catherine and her mother could only understand 
a few words. 

At last, though the road was dangerous, they ar- 
rived safely at the chalet. It stood on the edge of 
a sloping green field which was not fenced in, but 
surrounded by a forest of pine-trees, and protected 
by a wall of great rocks. 

Above the black rocks the snow began, and higher 


32 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


up was the glacier, glittering with its blue and green- 
ish ice crystals. It seemed to touch the very sky. 

‘‘ Now at last we are really in the blue country ! ” 
exclaimed Catherine, “ and if we only climb a little 
higher we would get up into the sky ; ” and suddenly 
she remembered something that she had forgotten for 
a long time. 

The idea of getting up among the clouds had re- 
minded her of the pretty pink cloud she had once 
caught in her apron ; and she was so enchanted by 
the sight of the blue glacier as to have quite forgotten 
Tante Colette, of whom she had been thinking all the 
journey, wondering what she would be like, and if she 
would be cross or kind. 


CHAPTER VI. 


UNT COLETTE was tall and pale, with soft 



white hair, and a face that was still beautiful 
in spite of her age. She did not appear at all aston- 
ished at the sight of Sylvanie. “ I almost expected 
you, for I dreamed about you and your child last 
night,’’ she said, as she kissed her. “ Let me see if 
she looks as she did in my dream.” 

Catherine approached ; Aunt Colette gazed at her 
with great gray eyes that seemed to read her through 
and through ; then, after a kiss, she said, “ I am glad, 
very glad, that this dear child has come to see me.” 

When the travellers had rested she showed them 
all over her home. 

The house, that had seemed so small when seen 
from afar, was really a large one, and was built of 
beautiful pine wood, and very substantial. The great 
stones on the roof were placed there to prevent its 
being shaken or blown away by the fierce winds of 
the winter. Inside everything was as clean as clean 
could be, and the furniture was waxed and polished un- 
til it was a pleasure to look at it. There were a great 


33 


34 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


many pots and pans of shining copper, and the beds 
were of white pine, with soft mattresses of hair and 
wool, good linen sheets, and warm, clean blankets, for 
it was never too warm so high up in the air. A bright 
little fire was always burning on the hearth, for fire- 
wood was plenty, as many of the forest-trees belonged 
to Aunt Colette, as well as the 'green field where she 
pastured her fine cows, a few sheep, and a little donkey. 
Aunt Colette kept a small boy who took care of her 
beasts, and a maid who looked after the house, did 
the cooking, and went on errands ; for Aunt Colette 
lived very comfortably, sending twice a week to the 
village for bread and meat; in fact she was very 
well off for a peasant, and Sylvanie, who had never 
suspected as much, and had come with offers of 
assistance, felt quite abashed before a person of so 
much importance. 

Catherine also was confused at finding her aunt 
so well off, and also at discovering her to be a 
woman of so superior an education. Seeing her so 
amiable and good, her heart warmed toward her, 
and she felt as though she had known her all her 
life. 

From the very first day Catherine had no hesita- 
tion in asking all manner of questions, and soon 
learned that her aunt had been the companion of 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


35 


an old lady, had nursed her in her last illness, and 
had received a legacy which was enough to support 
her comfortably. 

“ But my dear old lady was not rich,’’ said Aunt 
Colette, “ and I could not live as I do were it not for 
my own work and industry.” 

“ You mean that you sell the fine cattle you 
raise ? ” said Sylvanie. 

“ My cows help to support me,” said Colette ; “ but 
how do you think I got the money to buy them, 
and to buy the field wdiere they graze, and to build 
the barns to shelter them ? Can you guess, little 
Catherine ? ” 

“ No, my aunt.” 

“ Do you know how to spin?” 

“ Oh, certainly, ma tante, as old as I am, I would 
be very stupid not to know how to spin.” 

“ Can you spin very fine thread ? ” 

“ Well, — yes, rather fine.” 

“ She is the best spinner in all the neighborhood,” 
said Sylvanie, proudly. “ She can spin anything you 
give her.” 

“ Can she spin a spider’s web ? ” said Aunt Colette. 

Catherine thought that very funny, and laughed. 
“ I never tried,” said she. 

‘‘ Let me see how well you can spin,” said the 


36 


THE HOST CLOUD 


great-aunt ; and she gave Catherine an ebony distaff 
and a pretty spindle made of silver. 

“ How pretty they are,” said Catherine, as she 
looked at the distaff, straight as a reed, and the 
spindle as light as a feather ; ‘‘ but to spin, you must 
put something on the distaff, you know.” 

“ When one is clever, one can always find some- 
thing to spin,” said her aunt. 

“I don’t see anything here to spin, — not even a 
spider’s web, for your house is so neat there is not 
one to be found.” 

“ And out-of-doors ? Don’t you see anything, from 
where you stand in the doorway, that you could 
spin ? ” 

“ No, ma tante ; for the bark of the trees would 
have to be beaten out, and the wool on the sheep’s 
backs must be carded before it can be put on the 
distaff. The only thing that looks fit to spin is 
one of those fleecy white clouds up there above 
the glacier ; they look like great balls of cotton.” 

“ Well ! how do you know that nobody can spin a 
cloud?” 

“ Ah ! ” said Catherine, ‘‘ I beg your pardon, but I 
didn’t know it could be done.” And she gazed in 
wonder at her aunt. 




CHAPTER VII. 

“ AN’T you see that your aunt is making fun of 
you ? ” said Sylvanie. 

“ Excuse me,” said Tante Colette, “ but do you 
know what the peasants hereabouts call me ? ” 

“ I do not, nor do I understand much of their 
patois. They may be laughing at me for all I 
know.” 

“ I am not joking. Call little Benoit, who is over 
there in the arbor, arranging the dinner-table. He 
speaks good French; ask him what folks call me.” 

Sylvanie called Benoit and said to the boy : “ What 
nickname do the country folks give to my aunt, 
Madame Colette ? ” 

“ By your leave, madame, she is called the Tall 
Cloud-spinner.” 

Sylvanie repeated her question to the little maid 
servant, who gave the same answer. 

“ How wonderful,” said Catherine, ‘‘ to spin a 
cloud ! Now I am sure that I really once caught 
a cloud — once, when I was a tiny bit of a girl. 


37 


38 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


I — ” Seeing her mother look at her very severely, 
as though she were saying, “Now, don’t begin that 
old tale again,” she hesitated. 

Madame Colette wished to hear the whole story, 
and Sylvanie said, “ Excuse the child, my aunt. She 
is so young yet, and she really can’t get that adven- 
ture out of her head.” 

“ But I haven’t yet heard the story. What were 
you going to say, dear ? ” 

“Dear aunt,” said Catherine, with tears in her 
eyes, “I am not making' fun of you, — I shouldn’t 
dare to, — but mamma will never believe that I tell 
the truth. Really and truly, when I was little, 1 
once caught a pretty white cloud in my apron and 
brought it home with me.” 

“Well, to be sure!” said Tante Colette, showing 
neither surprise nor anger. 

“ And what became of it, child ? Did you try to 
spin it into thread ? ” 

“ No, I just let it fly away, and it turned all rose 
color, and even sang a song to me as it floated off.” 

“ And did you understand the words of the song ? ” 

“ No ! not a word ! But then I was so young.” 

“ After it flew away did it not turn to a storm- 
cloud?” 

“ Oh, yes, my aunt ; it blew the tiles off our roof. 



“WHAT COULD BE IN THE LITTLE CHEST, WHOSE 
KEY AUNT COLETTE HELD IN HER HAND?” 



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THE ROSY CLOUD 


39 


and broke down our beautiful great apple-tree that 
was in full bloom.” 

“ See what comes of picking up an ungrateful 
cloud,” said Madame Colette, very seriously. “ We 
should never trust such a fickle thing as a cloud, nor 
waste our affections on people who don’t know their 
own minds. A cloud ! ’Tis the most unstable thing 
in the world. But, see now, dinner is ready. You 
must be hungry. Come, sit down to the table and 
have some soup.” 

The dinner was very good, and Catherine did it full 
justice. The cheese and cream were delicious, and 
for dessert there were honey cakes of Aunt Colette’s 
own making. Sylvanie and Catherine thought they 
never had tasted anything so good. 

After dinner, as night was coming on, Madame 
Colette lighted the lamp and brought out a little 
chest, which she placed on the table. “ Come here, 
dear,” said she to Catherine, “ and I will show you 
why folks call me The Cloud-spinner. Look in the 
chest, Sylvanie, and you will learn how I have made 
my little fortune.” 

What could be in the little chest whose key Aunt 
Colette held in her hand? Catherine was dying of 
curiosity. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


'"T^HERE was something so white, so soft, so light, 
and so like a cloud, that Catherine gave a cry 
of surprise and Sylvanie became quite pale, for she 
began to imagine that Aunt Colette might be a witch 
or a fairy. 

But it turned out to be but a mass of the finest 
linen thread, spun so fine, so fine, that you would not 
have dared to touch it, nor even to breathe on it, for 
fear of getting it tangled. 

“ Ah, how beautiful ! ” exclaimed Catherine. “ Dear 
Aunt Colette, did you really spin that delicate thin 
thread ? You are the best spinner in the world, and 
all the rest of us are only twisters of twine.’^ 

“ Yes, I spun it all, and every year I sell several 
chests of just such thread. Perhaps you noticed on 
your journey that all the women are lace -makers, 
making those beautiful laces that cost so much 
money. I furnish them with this fine thread ; not 
all of them, for there are many others who spin lace 
thread, but none can make thread like mine, which 
costs ten times as much as theirs. Mine is all be- 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


41 


spoken in advance, because with it the women can 
make the finest and most expensive laces. When I 
die they will not be able to get any more like it. 1 
am getting old and my secret will die with me, 
unless you would like to learn it, Catherine.” 

“Oh, my good aunt!” cried Catherine, “if you 
only would teach me, not for the sake of the money 
I might earn, but because I would be so proud to do 
such beautiful work. Tell me your secret, pleasfe, 
please do.” 

“ Right away, in just one lesson ? ” said Aunt 
Colette. “ Well, well, as I said before, you must 
begin by learning to spin the clouds.” 

So saying she closed the little chest, and, after 
kissing Sylvanie and Catherine, went into her own 
room. Her guests slept in the living-room, where 
there was also a cot for the little maid servant, 
Ren^e. 

As Rente’s bed was quite close to Catherine’s, the 
two children whispered together a long time before 
they went to sleep. Sylvanie was too tired out to 
listen to them. Catherine asked a thousand ques- 
tions about her aunt’s secret. Had Renee ever 
found it out? “There is no secret,” said Rende, 
“except to be very patient and very skilful.” 

“ Ah, but one must be very clever to fasten a cloud 


42 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


on to a distaff without letting it float away, and then 
begin to draw it out into a thread — ’’ 

“ That is not the hardest part of it, for first you 
have to make the cloud.’’ 

“ What ! Make a cloud ? ” 

« Why, yes, it must be carded ! ” 

“ Card a cloud ! What with ? How is it done ? ” 
Renee didn’t answer, for she had gone to sleep. 
Catherine tried to follow her example, but she was 
too excited ; so she tossed about with her eyes wide 
open until the candle burned out, and there was 
nothing left of the fire but a few coals glowing on 
the hearth. She then noticed that there was a ray 
of light shining on the upper part of the wall, and, 
raising her head, saw that it proceeded from the 
crack of the door at the top of the staircase, and 
showed that there was still a light in the room to 
which Aunt Colette had retired for the night. 

Catherine could not resist the desire to find out 
what was going on in that room ; so, creeping bare- 
footed over to the staircase, she mounted it, step by 
step, with great precaution, for it was built of wood 
and very old, and she feared its creaking. As she 
was very light she succeeded in climbing to the top 
without making any noise, and in peeping through 
the crack of the door. 


CHAPTER IX. 


OHE saw only an empty room. It was very neat 
^ and nice, and there was a little lamp burning on 
the hearth ; but no one was there, and she crept 
down-stairs again rather ashamed of herself, for she 
knew that she had been playing the spy on her kind 
aunt, and attempting to discover a secret that she 
was unworthy to know. She got back into her bed, 
and was so unhappy, that when at last she got to 
sleep she had bad dreams. 

When she awakened the next morning she vowed 
that in the future she would control her idle curiosity, 
and wait patiently until her aunt chose to trust her 
with all her secret. When she was dressed she went 
with Ren^e to milk the cows, after which they were 
driven to the pasture. It could scarcely be called a 
field, as it was but a sloping, uncultivated bit of 
ground on the mountainside. It was a beautiful 
spot. A clear, sparkling stream of cold water, 
formed by the melting of the glacier, followed the 
hollows of the rocks, and at last leaped in a beauti- 
ful cascade to the green meadow below. Catherine, 


43 


44 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


who had never seen any waterfall except the mill- 
dam, was dazzled by the bright diamonds as they 
glittered in the sunshine. She was afraid to cross 
as Ren^e did, leaping from rock to rock ; however, 
after an hour or so she became accustomed to the 
sight of the water, and amused herself for some time 
by skipping from one side to the other of the pretty 
waterfall. 

She had the greatest desire to climb up as high as 
the glacier, and Rende showed her just how high it 
was safe to go without fear of falling into a great 
crack, or crevasse, and taught her the way to walk so 
as not to slip. Before the day was over Catherine 
had become quite brave, and had even learned several 
words of the mountain patois. 

She found everything new and delightful, and was so 
enchanted with the mountain as to feel a real distress 
when Sylvanie spoke of returning to her home the 
next day. Aunt Colette was so kind, so indulgent, 
too ! Catherine loved her even more than she loved 
the mountain. 

“ Daughter dear,” said Sylvanie, ‘‘ I see only one 
way of making you happy, and that is to leave you 
here with your great-aunt. She wishes very much to 
have you stay, and promises to teach you to card and 
spin as well as she does herself ; but as to do that 


THE BOSY CLOUT) 


45 


takes time and patience, and knowing how changeable 
you are, I have said no. Still, if you think you would 
be happy here and would like to learn, I will let you 
stay. You have already learned to spin as well as I 
do, perhaps you can do much more, and become as 
rich and as useful as your aunt. You may decide 
for yourself.” 

Catherine’s first thought was to kiss her mother, 
and say that she never wished to leave her, but the 
next day she hesitated, for Sylvanie said that one 
should never neglect an opportunity of becoming in- 
structed in any useful art. 

The following day Sylvanie began again on the 
same subject: ‘‘We are but poorly off. Your sister 
has already three children, and the eldest brother has 
five ; I am a widow, and am growing old. If you had 
a good education, and were rich, how much you could 
do for us all ! It would be the making of the whole 
family. Stay here with Aunt Colette, who loves you 
already ; she overlooks your little faults, and is dis- 
posed to make much of you. Besides, you like this 
place, you think it beautiful. In three months I will 
come for you, and if you are unhappy and wish to 
return home, I will take you back with me. Who 
knows but that Tante Colette means to make you her 
inheritor ! ” 


46 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


Then Catherine wept at the thought of leaving her 
mother. “ You stay here, too,’^ she said, “ and I 
promise to become the best spinner that ever was 
seen.” 

But Sylvanie was homesick. “ If I had to live in a 
country like this,” said she, “ I should die or else go 
crazy, and how would you feel then ? Would it not 
be better to know that you were growing up to be 
wise and rich and a help to us all ? ” 

Catherine went to bed crying, and very much per- 
plexed, but promising her mother to do whatever she 
thought best. 

Next morning Ren^e did not awaken her as usual, 
and she slept until nine o’clock. When she opened 
her eyes Aunt Colette was beside the bed and gave 
her a morning kiss. 

“ My good little Catherine,” said she, “ you are 
going to be brave and reasonable. Your mamma 
went away early this morning — at daybreak. She 
kissed you while you were asleep and bade you fare- 
well. She promised to return in three months, and 
would not wake you because she wished to spare you 
the grief of parting.” Catherine continued to weep, 
and Xante Colette said, “ I know that you regret being 
separated from your good mother, for you are a loving 
daughter, but try, dear, to be brave, and I promise to 


THE BOSY CLOUD 


47 


do all I can to make you happy and contented. You 
must remember that it is a grief to your mother to 
leave you, and that she only does it because it seems 
for your advantage.” 

With a great effort Catherine controlled herself, 
dried her tears, kissed her aunt, and promised to do 
her best and work with a will. 

“We will not begin work until to-morrow,” said 
Tante Colette. “ To-day you shall have a holiday 
and amuse yourself all day long.” 


CHAPTER X. 


HEN to-morrow came, Catherine had her 



* ^ first lesson ; but it was not what she expected. 
No secret was revealed to her ; her aunt simply gave 
her a distaff loaded with flax, and said : “ Spin all 
this into the finest thread that you possibly can.’’ 

The lesson was quite hard enough for a first one, 
for Catherine had hitherto only spun hemp to make 
coarse linen. She got on fairly well, but the result 
was so far from what she desired that she was 
ashamed to show it to her aunt, fearing a scolding ; 
but she received only compliments, and was told 
that it was very nicely done for a first attempt, and 
that she would do better still to-morrow. Catherine 
wanted to stay and watch her aunt at work. “ No,” 
said Tante Colette, “ I can never work when any one 
is looking on. Besides, I only work in my own room, 
and at your age one should not stay too much in the 
house. You can spin while wandering about in the 
meadow, or while watching the cows. Stay out-of- 
doors, and breathe the fresh air of the mountain. I 


48 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


49 


leave you free, because I see that you are industrious, 
and want to do your very best.” 

Certainly Catherine was not lazy, but she had a 
great deal of curiosity and very little patience, and to 
go off by herself and spin all day long was not what 
she had expected. She wanted to understand her 
aunt’s secret all at once, take it in as though she 
were swallowing a cup of new milk. 

She could see that she was making progress, that 
her work became better every day, for every evening 
she would bring home a spindle of finer thread than 
that of the day before ; but she found the work 
tedious and the improvement slow, so that by the 
end of the week she began to be quite vexed when 
her aunt would praise and encourage her. 

Ren^e, too, irritated her, always so amiable and 
contented, taking care of the cows, and the milk and 
butter. Benoit was scarcely ever to be seen, for he 
lived chiefly in the woods, and when he had any time 
to spare spent it hunting, and cared more for his dog 
than for any other companion. Catherine, there- 
fore, was alone a great part of the day, seeing Tante 
Colette only at meal-times, as the latter retired quite 
early every evening to her chamber, where she worked 
until bedtime. As soon as Rente’s head was on her 
pillow, she was sound asleep and snoring. Catherine 


50 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


would lie in bed and give herself up to all sorts of 
fancies. Sometimes she would have a good cry. 
She feared that, unless things took a different turn, 
she would be gray-headed before she could spin like 
Tante Colette, and that when her mother came, in 
three months’ time, she would find very little im- 
provement in the work. 

One day Catherine started out very early in the 
morning, for she had determined to work so well that 
Tante Colette would be forced to tell her the great 
secret. Going off among the rocks, she seated her- 
self in a lonely place, where there would be nothing 
to distract her mind ; but our attention can always 
be called away from our work, our eyes can always 
find something interesting to gaze on. 

She glanced up at the glaciers and beheld the very 
top of the mountain, which until now had been hidden 
every day by clouds. The sky was a beautiful dark 
blue, and made the snowy mountain-top look whiter 
and more dazzling. Catherine was seized with an 
unconquerable desire to climb to the very summit. 
It was dangerous, Ren^e had said so, and Tante 
Colette had forbidden her even to attempt it, saying 
that it was too dangerous even for the shepherd-boys ; 
so she contented herself with gazing on those beauti- 
ful snowy heights, which seemed so near that she 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


51 


imagined she had only to reach out her hand to 
touch, but which w'ere really so far away. She 
noticed that for the first time since her arrival 
among the mountains a quantity of snowy, fleecy 
clouds surrounded the highest peak like a pearly 
necklace. “ How beautiful it all is ! ” said she, “ and 
how I wish I could spin a thread fine enough to 
string those light fleecy white clouds on ! ” 

All at once she saw on the point of the glacier a 
little bright red speck moving about in the sunshine 
just above the pearly string of clouds. What could 
it be — a flower, a bird, or perhaps a star ? 


CHAPTER XL 


“TF I only had my great-aunt’s silver spectacles, I 
would certainly be able to tell what it is,” said 
she, “ for she tells me that with those glasses she can 
see what eyes can never behold.” 

However, she had to be contented without the 
spectacles, and continued to gaze at the little red 
spot, which appeared to draw all the clouds toward 
itself, so that very soon it was surrounded by them 
and could no longer be seen. All the little clouds 
were now rolled into one great ball, which rested on 
the topmost peak, like the gilded cock on top of a 
steeple. In a minute or so the golden ball began to 
rise, and, floating in the sky, become smaller and 
smaller, until at last it turned a beautiful rose color, 
and then Catherine heard a voice as clear as crystal 
singing in the sweetest way, “ Bon jour^ Catherine, 
don’t you remember me ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, yes ! ” cried Catherine, “ I remember 
you very well ! You are the pretty little pink cloud 
that I carried in my apron. You are my little 

52 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


53 


friend that spoke to me, and now I can understand 
what you say. Dear, pretty cloud, you were very 
naughty ; you broke down our beautiful apple-tree that 
was in full bloom, but I forgive you ! You are such 
a lovely color, and I love you so much ! ” 

The cloud replied, “ It was not I, Catherine, that 
destroyed your apple-tree, it was the thunder, a big, 
bad fellow who takes possession of me sometimes and 
makes me do all sorts of wild things ; but just see how 
sweet and tranquil I can be when any one will treat 
me like a friend and be good to me. Will you not 
come and see me some day up on the glacier ? It is 
not so hard to get up there as folks imagine ; indeed, 
it is quite easy when once you decide to try. Besides, 
I will be there to take care of you, and if you should 
chance to fall, you would fall on me and I would catch 
you and see that you did not hurt yourself. Try and 
come to-morrow, Catherine ; come at the break of 
day. I will wait for you all night long, and if you 
do not come, I will turn into great warm tears and 
there will be rain all day long.” 

“ I will come,” said Catherine, “ I certainly will 
come.” 

She had scarcely uttered these words, when there 
came a noise as if a cannon had been fired off, followed 
by a rattling as of musketry. Catherine was so fright- 


54 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


ened that she rushed off toward home, thinking that 
the wicked cloud was about to play her some mis- 
chievous trick and return evil for good. As she ran 
all breathless down the hill, she met Benoit coming 
quietly out of the wood with his dog and gun. “ Did 
you fire off your gun just now and make that noise 
like thunder ? ” said she. 

“ That noise just now ? ’’ he answered, with a laugh. 
“ That was neither my gun nor thunder, it was an 
avalanche.” 

“ What is an avalanche ? ” 

“ It is the ice, which melts in the sunshine, and 
cracks off in great pieces. It rolls down the moun- 
tainside, carrying earth and stones and even great 
trees, and people too, if any happen to be in its way ; 
but we try to keep out of its path, and ’tis very seldom 
that any one is unfortunate enough to be killed. You 
will soon get used to hearing the noise it makes, for 
now that the warm weather has come the avalanches 
will be falling every day, maybe every hour.” 

“ I will try to get used to it ; but, Benoit, tell me, 
did you ever go up to the high peak of the glacier ? 
You are a strong, big boy, and are afraid of nothing ! ” 

“ No,” said Benoit, ‘‘ no one tries to go up on such 
places ; but I have been as far up as the foot of the 
glacier and have even touched it. Not at this time 



“‘DID YOU FIRE OFF YOUR GUN JUST NOW AND MAKE 
THAT NOISE LIKE THUNDER?’ SAID SHE ” 





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THE ROSY CLOUD 


55 


of year though, for now it is too warm and the crev- 
asses might open at any instant.” 

“ But, Benoit, can you tell me what is that little 
red speck, that we can see once in awhile on the 
very highest peak ?” 

“ Ah ! You can see it then, the red speck ? You 
must have good eyes ! That is a red flag, which some 
travellers planted up there about a month ago, to show 
their friends that they had arrived so near the sum- 
mit. A heavy wind-storm came on, and they were 
forced to hurry down, leaving their flag behind them. 
The gale tore it from its staff, and blew it up to the 
top of the glacier, where it caught on a jagged bit of 
rock, and there it stays, waiting for another storm 
to tear it away.” 

Catherine listened attentively to Benoit’s story, but 
her head was filled with ideas of quite another sort. 
She was thinking of her little red cloud, and seeing 
afar off her aunt, whose scarlet hood made a brilliant 
spot near the foot of the glacier, she darted off to 
meet her, forgetting in her eagerness that she had not 
spun three ells of thread the whole day long, to which 
fact her well-filled distaff and her empty spindle bore 
witness. 


CHAPTER XIL 


TT was not until she was quite near her aunt that 
^ she noticed this ; and now it was too late to go 
back. She walked resolutely up to Madame Colette 
and asked if she were not tired after walking on the 
glacier. 

“ When one is as old as I am,’’ replied her aunt, 
“ one does not get tired easily ; a strong will-power 
carries us along, we scarcely know how. We move 
our feet mechanically ; but I have not been on the 
glacier, my daughter, it is not safe at this season. 
I follow the less dangerous paths, and the ones I 
know to be secure ; there are many such if you only 
know how to find them.” 

“ Then it was you that I saw up there an hour ago. 
I saw your red hood way up there.” 

‘‘ What do you call way up there ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know,” said Catherine, “ but I almost 
believed I saw you up on that highest peak above 
the clouds.” 

“ What made you suppose I could go up so high ? 

Do you take me for a fairy ? ” 

66 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


57 


“ Dear aunt, don’t be angry with me ; you know 
there are good and bad fairies, and you might be 
one of the good kind. I begin to understand the 
language of these mountaineers now, and I often 
hear them say that you work like a fairy.” 

“ They often tell me so to my face, but ’tis but a 
figure of speech, and T am no fairy, alas ! I see 
that you have a lively imagination, and it is natural 
at your age. I should be sorry to have you as mat- 
ter-of-fact as I am. Have you been spinning fairy 
tales all day, ma mignonne? I see that you have 
spun very little else.” 

“ Alas, ma tante, I fear I have done nothing what- 
ever.” 

‘‘ Don’t cry, dear. All in good time ; you must 
have patience.” 

“ Ah ! that is what you always say,” cried out 
Catherine, almost spitefully ; ‘‘ you have too much 
patience, you treat me like a baby. If you only 
chose to tell me all, I could soon learn to spin.” 

“ What ! Do you reproach me ? As though I 
were keeping a secret from you. I declare to you 
that I know of but one way to learn. There is no 
secret that will take the place of perseverance. You 
are sulking. Come, tell me what notion you have 
got in your fanciful brain.” 


58 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


“ Yes, I will tell you all,” said Catherine, and she 
seated herself on a great mossy stone beside Madame 
Colette. “ I did something I ought not to have done, 
and it weighs on my conscience.” Catherine then 
told her aunt how she had risen in the night and 
peeped through the crack in the door. “ To be sure, 
I saw nothing at all and learned nothing, but that is 
because you were not in your room. Had you been 
there I should have played the spy on you and found 
out your secret.” 

“ You would have discovered no secret,” said 
Madame Colette, “for I have none. If you had 
gone through my chamber and kept on up to my 
workroom, which is over it, you might have seen me 
carding flax, and making what we call the clouds. 
As it is unhealthy to do such fine work in the house, 
on account of the tiny particles of flax which are 
inhaled, and fill the lungs and nostrils, I do this work 
in an open loft, where the air can circulate freely 
and carry the fine bits of flax far away, where they 
can do no one any harm. Tell me now, Catherine, 
why are you always thinking about clouds and talk- 
ing about them ? Do you fancy that when I speak of 
clouds I mean the clouds in the sky, when I am only 
talking of the fine soft down that I get from carding 
the flax, and which the country folks call a cloud, 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


59 


because it is so soft and so light that there is nothing 
to equal it but a fleecy cloud ? ” 

Catherine was very much ashamed to find how 
stupid she had been, and what a wonderful fabric 
she had built on so frail a foundation. Still she 
remembered her vision of the rosy cloud, and, hop- 
ing for an explanation, she told the whole story to 
her aunt. 

Madame Colette listened patiently to the end with- 
out interrupting the child or ridiculing her. Instead 
of scolding her and bidding her be quiet, as Sylvanie 
would have done, she became quite thoughtful and 
interested in the reveries of her little niece. After a 
few moments of silence, she said : “ I see that you 
love all that is strange and wonderful, but take care. 
I, too, was once but a fanciful child and dreamed of 
a rosy cloud, and afterward, when 1 was a young 
girl, I saw one. There was gold on its shoulder, and 
a beautiful great white feather on its head.” 

“What are you saying, ma tante? Your cloud 
wore a coat and a feather ? ” 

“ It is but a figure of speech, my child. I meant 
that it was a very brilliant, beautiful cloud, but that 
was all.” 

“ It was inconstancy, a beautiful dream, nothing 
more, and was followed by a tempest, so that one 


60 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


unhappy day I was left crushed to the ground, like 
your flowering apple-tree, and learned to put no 
more trust in faithless clouds. Beware of them, my 
child, especially of those that are rose-colored ; they 
give promise of fair weather, and carry the lightning 
in their bosom. Come, take up your distaff and spin 
awhile, or better still, take a good nap and work 
afterward. We must never be discouraged. Dreams 
melt away, work remains.” 

Catherine began to spin while listening to her 
aunt, but she felt very sleepy. Little by little her 
eyes closed, her distaff began to seem heavier than 
usual, and finally it slipped from her fingers and fell 
to the ground. 





“CATHERINE BEGAN TO SPIN WHILE LISTENING 

>> 


TO HER AUNT 



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CHAPTER XIII. 


OHE was suddenly shaken as if by an earthquake. 
^ Aunt Colette stood before her, and for the first 
time appeared to be very angry. Her scarlet hood 
was turned back over her shoulders, and her white 
hair floated round her handsome pale face like a 
halo. “ You have gone to sleep, then, lazy girl ? 
I gave you the choice, and you have chosen. You 
prefer dreaming to working. Get up, then, * and 
follow me. You wish to learn my secret. Your 
wish shall be fulfilled.” 

Catherine arose, and, still half asleep, followed 
Tante Colette. She could hardly keep up with her, 
for the old lady walked swifter than the wind, and 
mounted with incredible speed a great staircase all 
built of emeralds and sapphires. They soon reached 
a glittering palace of diamonds, and, after walking 
over an ermine carpet and through crystal arches, 
found themselves on the roof of this wonderful edi- 
fice. “ Now we are on the upper glacier,” said her 
aunt, with a malicious laugh. “ You must be brave 
enough to climb with me to the topmost peak. CatcR 
61 


62 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


hold of my dress, and do not be afraid. The rosy 
cloud awaits you up there, and you have promised it 
to come.’’ 

Catherine seized Xante Colette’s skirt, but soon 
found herself slipping on the ice. Aunt Colette said : 
“ Take hold of the cord, hold tight, and fear not.” 

So saying, she held out a thread, so fine as scarcely 
to be visible. Catherine took hold of it, however, 
and though she pulled with all her might, it did not 
break. 

In this way they arrived at the very summit of the 
glacier. When they had attained to the highest icy 
peak, Xante Colette seized Catherine’s distaff, and 
planting it in the soft snow, cried out in an angry 
tone : ‘‘ Since you are determined not to spin, you 
shall sweep.” 

With these words she handed Catherine an enor- 
mous broom, as bushy as a great pine-tree, which 
seemed, however, to be as light as a feather. 

“ Now, then,” she cried, in a terrible, loud voice, 
“ sweep ! sweep ! ” and with that she pushed her off 
the mountain-top. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


INSTEAD of falling down onto the rocks below, 
^ Catherine found herself floating in the air, sus- 
pended by the fine cord that she had rolled around 
her arm. She could walk on the clouds as easily as 
on the soft grass of the meadow. 

“ Sweep ! ” called out Madame Colette. “ Sweep 
all those soft clouds into one great ball, and bring it 
to me. Don’t leave a single one behind, for I need 
them all.” 

Catherine swept, swept with all her might, but 
could never work fast enough to please her aunt, who 
kept on screaming to her : “ Faster ! faster ! better 
than that ! Quick, quicker ! Farther, farther ! Do 
you suppose I mean to send you a cart and oxen to 
gather in those clouds ? ” 

Catherine rushed hither and thither in the air, 
brushing before her great heaps of clouds with her 
immense broom. In an instant she would have made 
clean work of the whole sky. “ Bring me the whole 
pile of them,” cried Dame Colette ; “ push, push them 
here. I need them every one.” 


63 


64 


THE BOSY CLOUD 


Catherine pushed and rolled the whole of them 
into a mass like an enormous snowball, so large that 
it covered all the top of the glacier. 

“Now you must come back and help me. Wait, 
though, until I put on my spectacles,” and she placed 
her large silver-rimmed glasses on her great beak of 
a nose. 

“ What is this ? ” said she. “ I don’t see your 
little pink cloud. Did you mean to deceive me ? Do 
you suppose I intend to let him escape ? Go instantly 
and catch him, and be careful not to let go of him 
this time.” 

The rosy cloud gave Catherine a famous chase. 
Here, there, everywhere blown about by the breeze, it 
was just about to disappear, when Catherine threw 
the end of the fine thread, by which she was sus- 
pended in the air, over the mischievous thing. He 
knew he was caught, and flew right into Catherine’s 
apron, where, in a sweet, plaintive voice he began : 

“ Little blue apron that saved me before, 

Dear little apron, come save me once more ! 

Good little Catherine, hide a poor sinner. 

Don’t give me up to the terrible spinner.” 

Catherine returned to her aunt. She had tied her 
apron tightly up in a knot, and hoped that Madame 
Colette would not notice it. The old lady was very 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


65 


excited, and clearly ready for business. She was 
standing before the great mass of snowy clouds, with 
her carding-combs in her hands, combing and carding 
them into fine wadding ready for the distaff. She 
worked so swiftly that the whole pile was soon carded, 
and as Catherine stooped over to take up some of the 
beautiful downy stuff in her hands, the little blue 
apron came untied and the rosy cloud fell in with 
the rest. 

“ Aha, you scamp ! ” cried out Tante Colette, 
seizing it with her sharp-toothed carding-combs. 
“You fancied I would not catch you at last. Get 
down into the pile ; rosy as you are, you shall be 
carded and spun just like the rest.’’ 

“ Aunt Colette ! Please, Aunt Colette ! Have pity 
on my little pink cloud. Please be merciful and don’t 
spin my pretty cloud.” 

“Put it on your distaff,” said Tante Colette. 
“ There, it is carded already ; now get to work this 
instant and spin it into a fine, fine thread, and quick, 
quick! Do you hear me?” 

Catherine took up her distaff and, closing her eyes 
so as not to see the agony of the poor cloud, began to 
spin. She heard its sighs. Its voice grew weaker 
and weaker. She tried to throw down the distaff and 
run away, but her hands seemed glued to the stick 


66 


THE ROSY CLOUD 

and she could not open them. A faint light dazzled 
her eyes ; she opened them wide, and found herself 
stretched on the mossy stone beside her aunt, who was 
sleeping soundly. 

L.ofC. 


CHAPTER XY. 


HE sat up and shook Madame Colette, who quickly 



^ waked up and gave her a kiss. “ Well, well ! ” 
said she, “ we have been a lazy pair, to be sure, 
lying here sound asleep, both of us, on this mossy 
old rock ! Did you have a dream ? ” 

“ Yes, that I did. Aunt Colette ! I dreamed that 
I could spin as well as you. But what do you suppose 
I was spinning ? My little red cloud.” 

“ Dear child,” said Aunt Colette, “ I may as well 
tell you that I spun mine long ago. The rosy 
cloud, it was my caprice, my fancy, my evil genius, 
my hard fate. I put it on my distaff, and good, 
honest, hard work turned my trouble into such a fine, 
delicate thread that I never felt its weight. Follow 
my example. The clouds will pass over us all ; but 
we can be brave. When they come, put them on thy 
distaff, child, and spin them so fine that no storm can 
gather round thee.” 

Catherine did not understand exactly what Aunt 
Colette meant, but she never saw the rosy cloud again. 
When in three months time her mother came to see 


67 


68 


THE ROSY CLOUD 


her, she could spin six times better than at first, and 
after a few years she became as skilful as Aunt 
Colette, to whose fortune she succeeded at last and 
became famous among the lace-makers as The Little • 
Cloud-spinner. 


THE END. 


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